count your #blessings



my 4yr old son comes home from school wearing a pilgrim hat that he made during craft time as they learned about the first thanksgiving.

the native americans taught the pilgrims how to plant maize and harvest their crops.

and i wonder if i should ask his teacher not to enforce this narrative of white supremacy but i don’t want to be that parent and am already that parent who shows up five minutes late to the parent-teacher conference with faded blue hair and chipped black nail polish. i don’t know how to teach a toddler about genocide and the capacity for humans to commit evil but when i try to talk about death it always circles back to nemo’s mom being eaten by a barracuda and nemo having to live the rest of his life without a mother.



my dog doesn’t hate people, she just hates small children, and i hate sticky hands so i can relate. sometimes i feel embarrassed that she barks so much at so many things, like people and other dogs and pineapples and grocery bags on sidewalks, but she is from a farm in indiana and there always was going to be a heavy price to pay for her beauty.




winnie isn’t my dog but she is my son and she is beautiful like an actual baby fox. her deep dark secret is that she is constantly eating shit. her own, and the shit of others. there is a counter on the fridge labeled “days since winnie has eaten shit” and it is always at zero. i still let winnie lick my face and having a dog that barks a lot and hates children is not so bad if you really think about it.




the worst feud in the history of my family is my dad claiming he found marvin on the free ads on craigslist before i did and thus marvin is his rightful dog. i don’t feel it is appropriate to ever engage white men in this kind of debate, but the lunacy of his claim brings me to a boiling rage every single time. this geriatric chihuahua has shit in my bed twice this week and i won’t have any person challenging my claim to this beast.


jessie mae lizardson

i went to a reading at a bar one week after my son was born and a beautiful stranger who looks like an irl instagram filter asked me how i was doing and i told her my baby was unable to breathe on his own and living in an incubator and how his heart regularly stops and when that happens i have to slap him on the back to remind him that he is alive. she told me that if she compared all of her female friends to her male friends, it would be similar to comparing every baby animal in the world to a rock and if i compared every baby animal in the world to jessie it would be like fuck all those cute baby animals.



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the worst D&D drama you will ever know is the time mark got so high that he forgot a particularly annoying dungeon we had escaped minutes after playing and he kept staring at the map without any recognition of the game we just finished. he remained unconvinced we had actually played this dungeon, despite our efforts to remind him of the hours we had just spent fighting goblins, and it was hilarious but the DM at the time got so mad that he emotionally flipped a table and demanded an apology. no apology was given!



“If the moon smiled, she would resemble you.
You leave the same impression
Of something beautiful, but annihilating.”

being in love with ruth is difficult because i want to be a perfect woman for her and am waiting until i am rich enough to buy us a three-flat to ask her to leave her husband and live with me and be a full-time poet. jessie will live with us in our compound and pretend she hates marvin, whomst she loves, and we will have a hot tub probably.  




sam sent my small baby child 80 bags of cheetos in four different varieties (crunchy, puffs, flamin’ hot, and jalapeno cheddar) and they arrived in a massive cardboard box that says H U N G R Y on the side. this kid craves candy and snacks more than anything in this life so i inflated a small child’s pool and filled it with the exactly eighty bags of cheetos and i think when life hands you an abundance of manufactured cheese you should make a production out of it. and i think when life hands you an abundance of love you have to remember to be thankful.




i have never had a father but am currently having the best sex of my life with a man i call daddy who for real asked me if it is a good or bad thing to be a fuckboy and when i met him at his hotel room he left a key for me under my maiden name and i don’t know if i am in love or just bored.




my rich boring sister-in-law graduated from yoga school and the ceremony was four hours long and ‘life-changing’ and god must be real to have provided me with schadenfreude in the form of witnessing someone i hate have a midlife crisis and find spirituality in a cliché. namaste, bitches.




i don’t believe in astrology but i believe that things will get better and i read my horoscope daily because when my bank account is at negative $12 it provides me with comfort to know that on the 17th of this month i will make a huge financial decision that will change my life.


diddle knabb lives in chicago. you can follow her on instagram @diddlemepink

a version of this column originally appeared in Gamut Magazine november 2017


archive of a message my mother sent to my ex-husband's sister forwarded in its original format

April 14, 2011
Kelly's mom sent me this

"Hi im the mother of kelly pearce and i think its pretty sick that ur 35 yr old brother ( may iadd he is the same age as me ) is having doings w a 19 year old little girl ! We find your brother to be a
perverted moran ! andmay i also add i find it sickening that" you" find this normal ??? What do you and a 19 year old little girl have in common ? MY POINT NOTHING !"

This really pisses me off, but i am not sure how i should respond. perhaps with a family like this, you should break up with her.

i love you

my days are like this

my toddler takes a steaming hot shit on top of my head and before I can process the horror one of the dogs has the turd in its mouth and we are all screaming and there are tears. this particular scene hasn't happened, there has been hot shit on my head and the dogs have had turds in their mouths, but not both at the same time. ~yet~

potty training a white male is pretty much an endless stream of urine into my face because men are useless, especially smol bb birb ones. my young blood, Iggy, is about to turn three. everyday my brain explodes with amazement at how much he is learning and the things he says are much wow and I marvel at his existence but he still cannot wipe his own ass. he isn't even close to wiping his own ass. not even once in his life has he attempted to wipe his own ass. 

here's the scene:

it's 1 a.m. and I am up late making chocolate chip cookies. Iggy keeps poking his head out of the bedroom and I want to die because bedtime started roughly 5 hours ago and this little angel will not go the f*ck to sleep and I want to watch nurse jackie and not be bothered by this child for once in my life god he is so annoying but he's so damn cute and has a huge grin and his face and is whispering "hi mom! hi mommy! mom, hey mom! hi! it me! it Iggy!" and that is adorable and soon enough he's going to be a teen hiding in his room, masturbating on my nice towels, and telling me to go fuck myself so I'm letting the baby help me bake cookies at 1 a.m. hi child protective services! LOL

kids do not "help" with anything. Iggy did not "help me bake cookies." he made me crouch into a lunging position so he could use my thigh as a step stool even though he has a stool that I brought out and set up nicely at the kitchen counter for him to use to "help" me but he didn't want the step stool, he wanted to be close to me, so demanded I use my body for him to literally walk on and he's kind of a bully so I did it and I am standing at the counter at one in the morning balancing a child on my knee and wondering why god won't smite me dead and end my painful existence. 

he took an egg and squeezed it in his fists until it broke while looking me in the eyes I don't know what that means but it gave me a frighten. 

after he's officially done fucking up my batter and making it nearly unusable, he asks to go check on the dogs in the living room (?). I am glad to get rid of him tbh and he goes off to do whatever it is he does. 

this is what he does. 

Iggy (in living room patrolling the dogs): mom?

me (in kitchen forking broken pieces of eggshell from the cookies that I offered to coworkers the next day): what's up?

Iggy: uhhhh mom?

me: yeah babes?


his underwear are off and there is shit everywhere. imagine a murder scene but instead of pints of blood there are pints of diarrhea. he's standing in a pile of poo. foot in the poo. on his legs. his olaf underwear are sitting in a dump trunk. there's a smear on the fish tank. the dogs are scared and hiding under the couch. HE IS SO SMALL HOW IS IT POSSIBLE HOW. imagine taking a diaper and throwing it at a ceiling fan just for LOLZ. we likely will have to move now can because I can't. I died I am dead I am a ghost. 

seconds after I absorb the shitshow this motherfucker who is still covered in diarrhea starts in on "mom I want a cookie." I am completely flabbergasted and am like listen you sweet newborn angel king (read: asshole) 1) the cookies aren't even in the oven 2) WE ARE COVERED IN SHIT and he's very calmly like "give me a cookie or I'll scream" and is giving me the most hateful look and I remember how he crushed that egg earlier and am so fright. 

I can't believe he's turning three my heart it hurts


diddle knabb lives in chicago. you can follow her on instagram @diddlemepink

column originally appeared in Gamut Magazine December 2016